


Arrhythmia

by skyeward



Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/F, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyeward/pseuds/skyeward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always the same... or at least it's never her. But this time, Shaundi is breaking the pattern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrhythmia

Every time Shaundi calls the Boss, there’s a different breathless, giggling voice in the background. This time, the Boss sounds breathless as well, and Shaundi wants to reach through the phone and strangle the black woman with her own dreadlocks.

"Where are you?" Shaundi demands instead, pacing the penthouse loft with a gun in one hand and a growing desire to shoot something.

"Where am I?" The Boss asks, laughter in her slightly-muffled voice setting Shaundi’s blood to boiling and her trigger finger to itching, "I’m, uh…down by the docks. What’s up?"

"Just get back to HQ," the lieutenant snaps before hanging up and shooting out three lamps in rapid succession. The glass exploding across the floor makes her feel vindicated, somehow.

She goes downstairs to wait, knowing it won’t be long before the Boss shows up in strange clothes on a strange motorcycle with a strange girl clinging to her back. It’s always the same routine, the roar of an engine replaced by the shrieking of brakes as she pulls up short in front of the building and dismounts, abandoning the stolen machine without a second thought. It’s less than five minutes before the Boss pulls up wearing a pair of cotton drawstring pants and nothing else, a laughing girl at her back. The girl dismounts first, and Shaundi is swamped in deja vu - the tanktop, cotton pants, wristband, an overwhelming stench of weed smoke…the girl is essentially her, rewound by three years. Was that really it? Just three years since that was  _Shaundi_  clinging to the Boss’s hips, flying off the end of a dirt ramp on a stolen bike? Three years of jealous fury and plotting the deaths of every girl who sat in  _her_  spot?

The Boss gives today’s girl a pat on the ass as always, purrs something in that soft Spanish lilt about seeing her again - a flat-out lie - and sends her on her way. Her dreadlocks are a tangled mess, and Shaundi pretends it’s just her stubborn refusal to wear a damn helmet.

"So what’s up?" The Boss asks again, as if she’s not standing on a public street half-naked. It’s nothing Shaundi hasn’t seen a thousand times before, but she’s too wound-up to take it in stride.

"Probably half the dicks in the city, have you ever heard of wearing some damn clothes?"

"I’m going, I’m going," the Boss laughs, starting towards the building, and Shaundi is torn between a renewed desire to strangle her and a stronger, more immediate urge to throw her to the ground and fuck her senseless. She does neither, of course, although she also can’t quite take her eyes off the Boss’s breasts. High and tight, just like she likes them.

"No time," Shaundi snaps instead, slipping out of her jacket and throwing it at those bouncing brown orbs. There’s plenty of time, of course - Kinzie isn’t expecting them for at least an hour - but she doesn’t want the Boss to see the evidence of her little tantrum. "We’ll stop at Planet Saints on the way to Kinzie’s. Let’s go."

The Boss shrugs, as easy-going as ever, and shimmies into Shaundi’s jacket before climbing back onto the bike and waiting for her lieutenant to climb up behind her. The Boss makes a small sound of surprise as Shaundi’s face presses against her back, arms encircling her bare waist.

"Shaundi?" she asks, obviously confused, and there’s a strange hitch in her voice that Shaundi has never heard.

"Just drive."


End file.
